The Unforgiven
by adder574
Summary: Dedicated to PandoraJazz for giving me the idea. This is the companion piece to my story Genius and tells the story of when Dean got hurt, and completed his GED.
1. Chapter 1

The Unforgiven

Disclaimer: Still Don't Own

This story is dedicated to Pandora Jazz, who gave me the idea of adding the section to Genius where Sam finds out that Dean got his GED. When I first wrote about the hunt John and Dean mentioned, it was just as an excuse to have Dean in one spot for long enough to get his GED. I was flattered when I received several requests for the back story.

Usually when I write, I might not know exactly where the chapter is going, but have some basic idea. With this, I actually had no idea. I needed something that would get Sam really mad at John if he knew, and an injury that was serious enough to stop Dean from hunting for several months, but not injure him permanetly. So I just started typing and this is what I came up with. I hope you like it. This takes place after Everybody Loves a Clown.

A/N: I know that there are others waiting for updates on Camp Sunshine and Family is Everything and I promise they are coming. The next chapter is with my beta now. This story has been sitting on my hard drive for months. There is a section in chapter 2 that I was never happy with and I kept meaning to re-write it, but could never find the time. Finally, I just decided to post this as is. It is three chapters long and all chapters are complete. The third chapter is with my beta for a final once over and should be ready by the time I'm ready to post it. I will be posting one chapter each monday.

I do admit that most of the medical information is no accurate. I usually do some research, but as I mentioned, I just started typing and this is want I came up with. I hope everyone will forgive any glaring inaccuracies.

Chapter 1

"But I'm not alright and neither are you, that much I do know," Sam confronted his brother. He didn't wait for Dean's response before he turned and started back towards Bobby's house.

The sudden shattering of glass, and the pounding of metal on metal caught Sam's attention. Spinning quickly, he found Dean whaling away on the trunk of the Impala with a crowbar.

"Sam," a voice said and laid a hand heavily on his shoulder, preventing Sam from going to his brother.

Sam startled not expecting the contact. "Bobby, I need..."

"To leave him be," the elder hunter said firmly. "I know you want to help him, Sam, but right now, he needs to get this out of his system. If that means pounding on the Impala, then let him."

"But Bobby..." Sam tried to protest only to be cut off once more.

"You and I both know your brother ain't gonna talk until he's damn well, good and ready. You going over there will only serve to either shut him up, or take off. Now, come on back to the house with me. "

It was killing Sam, but he knew that Bobby was right, so he reluctantly followed the other man back to the house.

Bobby watched the Winchester boys, his heart breaking for both of them. John's death had been so unexpected and so raw for both of them, Bobby was feeling helpless as how to help them get through it.

He did the only thing he could do. He was there for them. If Sam wanted to talk, Bobby listened. Sam had always been easier to deal with, Bobby knew what he was feeling. Dean, on the other hand, was a closed book. He wouldn't speak, except to say he was fine.

Then the boys had found that hunt. He had thought it would be good for them. Give them a place to focus their anger and sadness, but it hadn't worked out that way. Sam and Dean had met Ellen. She wasn't a bad person, she was actually a good ally to have, no, what worried Bobby is that the boys had just found out that John had kept more secrets from them, rubbing salt into already infected wounds. Bobby decided then and there that when he died, he was haunting John Winchester's ass.

Bobby found Sam staring out the kitchen window. It gave a clear view of the salvage yard, or more importantly, it gave Sam a clear view of his older brother. Right now, Dean was just standing there, staring off into space.

"Hey, I need you to go clean out my storage room," Bobby suggested. He needed to distract the younger brother, plus it got his storage room cleaned out, something he had been planning to do for months but kept putting off.

"What?" Sam asked pulled away from his observations and sounding horrified. "Tell me you didn't say the storage room."

"That's exactly what I said. Now, move your ass," Bobby barked out.

"Are you sure there's nothing else? I mean, why don't I go re-arrange all the cars in your salvage yard?" That would be an easier task.

"Storage room," Bobby insisted.

Not sure, why he was complying, but honestly grateful for the distraction, Sam slowly climbed the stairs. Bobby's house had four bedrooms. There was his, the one their father had used, and the room that he and Dean usually shared. There was also a large room at the end of the hall that Bobby used for storage. He and Dean used to tease each other about going in there when they were younger, telling horror stories about things that went behind that door and were never seen again.

He approached the door cautiously. He gripped the door handle and pulled the door open slowly and jumped back, seriously expecting something to attack him, or fall on him at the very least. Fortunately nothing happened.

The room was just as he expected it to be, complete and utter chaos. It was packed from wall to wall. Sam wasn't surprised to find several boxes of old books, there was no place in Bobby's house that didn't have them. There were also old clothes and a whole box of old trucker hats (_so that's where he got them). _There were old car parts scattered everywhere, and Sam had to be careful where he was walking so as not to trip over them. What surprised Sam the most was the various pieces of medical equipment he could also see. He hadn't realized that Bobby had kept them. He saw a pair of crutches that had been his when he was 12 and he'd broken his ankle whilst ice skating. He could tell because he had written his name on them, Dean had teased him about that for a long time. There was an old knee brace from a time when his father had dislocated his kneecap. There was even a wheelchair, two full length leg braces and a pair of forearm crutches that Sam didn't recognize as belonging to anyone. He guessed that they had belonged to an old friend of Bobby's.

Where to start was the big question. Before he could make a decision, his father's voice flashed through his brain. _One thing at a time. Even the biggest tasks can be taken care of that way. _Deciding that was best, Sam grabbed one of the boxes and opened it, finding it was full of books.

Two hours later, Sam found himself getting tired. There were three piles in the hallway of things that he knew Bobby wanted to keep, things that were broken or torn or that Bobby probably didn't want, and a pile of things he wasn't sure about. The next box was huge and too heavy to lift, so Sam decided to just go through it there. He looked around for somewhere to sit, but the one thing the room didn't contain was a chair. Sam went to the corner, unfolded the wheelchair, and brought it over. He knew it was supposed to be considered back luck to sit in one, but his back was getting sore from all the heavy lifting he had been doing, and he wanted to rest it.

He had no sooner got himself settled than he heard his brother call him.

"Hey, Sammy, I guess Bobby found his sucker."

"Shut up," Sam called back. "Why don't you come in and help?"

"I've got a better idea, why don't you see if you can find your way out of there and we'll go get some pizza and beer. It's either that or Bo..."

Sam looked up when he heard Dean's voice stop dead. "Are you all right?" he asked. Dean had gone still, his face drained of all color. His skin looked almost translucent in the pale light of the hallway.

"Ggge...get out," Dean stammered. "Get out of it _**NOW**_!"

Confusion colored Sam's face. He knew they used to joke about this room being haunted, but that was just a joke, right? Sam hadn't felt any cold spots or flickering lights. "Alright, I'm coming," Sam said.

"Just get up, okay Sammy?" Dean replied. "I don't want... that..." Dean stopped again and turned, suddenly bolting for the hallway, toward the bathroom where he proceeded to empty his stomach.

"Jeez, Dean, you okay?" Sam asked in concern.

"Fine," Dean ground out. His tone sounded forced and pinched.

"Bobby!" Sam called for the elder hunter.

"Damn it, I said I'm..." that was as far as Dean got before his stomach revolted again.

"I can see that," Sam said placating his brother.

"What's going on up here?" Bobby asked as he came up the stairs. "Dean," he addressed the elder Winchester in concern. Dean couldn't answer as a third bout of nausea overtook him. This time it was mostly dry heaves.

"I'm okay," Dean said weakly. "It's just seeing Sammy... that _**thing**_." The last word came out like a curse word.

Bobby looked to Sam for an explanation. Sam just shrugged. He had no idea what had caused Dean's reaction.

Knowing he had more important things to deal with, Bobby grabbed a glass off his bathroom sink and filled it with water. "Rinse your mouth out," he said handing the glass to Dean who complied. Bobby reached into his medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Advil. "Take this," he insisted. He knew how shaken up Dean was when he didn't protest. "Come on, I think you need to lie down for a while."

"I'm not 4, Bobby, I don't need a nap," Dean protested.

"Make you a deal. You lay down for 10 minutes, if you're awake after that, you can get up." Bobby knew Dean wouldn't last five minutes.

"Fine," Dean huffed and allowed Bobby to lead him down the hall.

----

6 minutes later, Bobby emerged to find Sam standing in the hallway, right where Bobby had left him. He walked past Sam toward the storage room. "Damn, I forgot that was in here," Bobby said as he peered into the room and saw the object that had caused Dean's reaction.

"What the hell was that all about?" Sam demanded coming up behind him. "Why did Dean look like he'd seen a ghost when he saw me sitting in that chair?"

"It's a long story."

"I don't care."

"I'd rather not get into it," Bobby said hoping Sam would let it go.

"I'd rather you did," Sam said firmly.

"I know, come to the kitchen. I need whiskey."

Sam followed the mechanic down the stairs, accepted the whiskey Bobby handed him, and took a seat at the table when Bobby offered it.

"Do you remember that hunt you guys took, the one with the ghost at the school?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed.

"I know Dean told you that he got his GED."

"Yeah, hey, does this have to do with the hunt that Dean mentioned, the one where he got hurt?"

Bobby rubbed his eyes. He could feel a headache building. He had promised Dean that he would never tell Sam about that time. Part of him wanted to tell Sam, and part of him wanted to keep Dean's confidence. The other part of him wanted to find a spell to bring John Winchester back to life, just so he could kill him all over again. Bobby glanced at the stairs, he didn't know why since Dean wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. That Advil Bobby had given him was actually a sleeping pill.

"We never had this conversation," Bobby said pointedly.

"Fine," Sam agreed. He just wished Bobby would get on with it.

"Do you remember a man by the name of Paul Mazer?"

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn't quite place it. "I wouldn't be surprised if you can't, you were only about four. Anyway, Paul stayed here for a while, along with his 16 year old son, Danny. I taught Paul to hunt, like I did with your daddy. We got word of a wendigo a couple of states over and John and Paul decided it would be good for their first solo hunt."

"I'm guessing it wasn't?" Sam offered.

"Yes and no," Bobby confirmed. "It would have been fine for Paul and your father, but Paul decided he wanted to bring Danny along, despite the fact that the kid wasn't ready."

"Was Danny killed?" Sam inquired.

"No. What you need to understand, Sam, was that Danny was a troubled kid. Paul's wife and daughter were killed by a by something supernatural when they were visiting Ireland. Danny never got over the death of his mother or sister. While Dean internalized everything after your mother's death, Danny acted out. He started fights, got expelled from school after he started a fire that put 2 kids in the hospital. He even tried to pick on you a couple of times," Bobby explained. "Dean took offence and set the kid straight. It was the first time I ever saw him take on someone who was twice his size. Dean ended up with a black eye, but he gave Danny a bloody nose. I told Paul that if Danny ever touched either of you two again, he was going to have to leave. That was when Paul decided that it would teach his son responsibility by taking him with them on the hunt."

"They set up their camp with all the protective circles, and on the second night, Paul went out scouting. Your dad heard Paul shout out for help a little while later. He told Danny to stay inside the circle where it was safe, then he went looking for Paul."

"Danny didn't listen?"

"No," Bobby agreed. "He was gone when John and Paul returned to camp. They searched everywhere for him, thinking the wendigo had him. They found it's lair a few hours later and took care of the creature, but there was no sign of Danny anywhere. John told me that he thought that Danny might have run away. Paul wouldn't hear it, insisting that Danny had been taken by the creature, that it was your daddy's fault and if anything had happened to his son, he was never going to forgive your daddy."

"It wasn't dad's fault," Sam said.

"No, it wasn't, but your daddy would have done the same thing if you or Dean had gone missing. When it's your kid, rationality doesn't apply."

"Did they find Danny?"

"They did find him the next day. He had tried run away, he admitted to that. Not being familiar with the area, he had fallen into a ravine. He was hurt. He had been trying to crawl out. Your daddy and Paul got to him just in time. Moving around ended up aggravating an internal injury, and caused one of his broken ribs to puncture his lung. Your daddy had to move him to stop him from suffocating. In the end, all this contributed to damage Danny's spine, and left him paralyzed from the waist down. It was just one more thing Paul blamed your daddy for."

"That was Danny's wheelchair in your storage room? It still doesn't explain why Dean reacted like that."

Bobby ignored Sam's question and continued. "Danny's problems only got worse after that, and he killed himself a couple of years later, or so we thought. Paul vowed revenge on your daddy. He promised that John would feel the same pain he felt. He disappeared for a long time after that. I heard rumors that he was killed, but that wasn't true. You had been at Stanford for about a year, when John and Dean took a job investigating young men going missing. It appeared to be the work of a siren, but it wasn't. It was someone very human."

"Paul," Sam replied. It wasn't a question.

"Dean went missing," Bobby confirmed. "We found him a couple of days later and he was badly injured. Does this sound familiar?"

Understanding suddenly dawned on Sam and he felt his chest grow tight. He didn't want to ask the question that was resting on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed it as Bobby continued speaking. He had a feeling he'd get the answer eventually and he wanted to hear it later rather than sooner.

------

_**2002**_

John Winchester looked at his watch for the 13th time in the last 13 minutes. Where the hell was Dean? _If that kid was goofing off with some bar maid..._

John had been sitting in the local bar, nursing a beer. This was the only place that all the victims had seemed to have in common and John and Dean were there to scope the place out. Or they were supposed to if his wayward son ever decided to show.

_**RING RING**_

John grabbed his cell when he heard it ring. "Damn it, Dean! Where the hell are you?"

"Now, now, Johnny, that's for me to know and you to find out," a voice taunted him.

Feeling his blood run cold, John checked the caller ID. He felt his fear grow when he saw it was Dean's number. Whoever this was had Dean's phone. The voice also sounded familiar, but John couldn't place it.

"Who is this?" he demanded as he got off the stool and made his way outside. He was drawing too many stares.

"Johnny, I'm hurt. You don't remember me? We were so close out in those woods," the voice said in a mocking tone.

"Paul!" John ground out forcibly when he finally recognized the voice.

"Very good, Johnny. I'd say you'd won a prize, but you're not even close. You have a long way to go."

"I'm not in the mood to play games," John growled.

"But I am, and I'm sure you'll want to as well when you find out what you can win." John heard rustling and he gripped the phone so tightly it almost broke in his hand, then he heard another familiar voice start to speak.

"Dad, don't listen to anything that bas... oooffff."

"You son of a bitch," John yelled into the phone when he heard a smack and Dean grunt in pain.

"Such language. Is that anyway to talk in front of your boy?"

"Listen Mazer," John said his tone deadly. "If you hurt my boy..."

"Hurt your boy?" Paul sneered. "My boy was hurt. Did you think of that Johnny?"

"Mazer, what happened to Danny wasn't Dean's fault. He was eight years old, for God's sake. You want someone to blame, blame me. Just let Dean go."

"No," the voice taunted him. "For two years, I watched my boy struggle. It was all your fault. I think it's only fair that you watch your boy suffer the way mine did."

"Don't you dare," John threatened.

"The game's afoot," Paul said in his best Sherlock Holmes imitation. "I'll call you back in one hour."

"Mazer, don't you dare hang..." _**Click**_

John didn't think he'd ever heard more terrifying sound in his life. He immediately checked his battery to make sure it was fully charged. He couldn't risk his phone dying and losing his only contact to his son. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that the battery was full. He immediately called Bobby. His friend was familiar with Paul Mazer and John needed an ally. Bobby immediately promised to grab the first flight out.

-------

John went back to his motel and grabbed his journal, looking up everything he had recorded about that hunt. There wasn't much, and he cursed himself for that. He had been wearing a hole in the carpet when the phone finally rang.

"Where is he, Mazer?"

"Where's the fun in that? No, Winchester, this is my game and you play by my rules. Your first clue. Your boy's gonna suffer the same way mine did."

_**"WHAT THE HELL KIND OF CLUE IS THAT?" **_John yelled to the dial tone.

_Think, John. You're smarter than he is. Your boy's gonna suffer like mine. Okay, Danny was lost out all night in the woods. It was cold and dark. That's it, Dean was somewhere cold and dark._ Okay that really didn't help, but at least it was a start.

The urge to call Sam was strong. Sammy was good at working out clues, much better than his father, but Sam wouldn't be able to help all the way out at Stanford. They were in the middle of a city, with no woods nearby, so John grabbed the yellow pages trying to see if there was any place in the area that could double as cold and dark. He wasn't having much luck, but he needed to feel like he was doing something.

John found a meat packing plant. It was a stretch and he knew it, but they did have freezers that were cold and dark. John stood up, the phone book falling to the floor, grabbed his keys and took off. When he got there, he cursed his own stupidity when he saw that it was surrounded with workers. He should have known. There was no way Dean could be there. His son and a nutcase would stick out like a sore thumb.

He was deciding where to go next when his phone rang again.

"Johnny, I'm surprised. Close but no cigar."

"Look, whatever you want, you can have it. Just give me back my son."

"I'll give you back yours when you give me back mine," Paul said viciously.

"Let me talk to Dean."

"No, come on, Johnny. Dean's time is running out."

"What the hell does that mean? Answer me, you bastard!"

"I think we've already discussed this language problem of yours. Now I know where your son gets it from."

"You leave him alone," John pleaded.

"Hurry, Johnny."

------

John knew that he had to put aside being a father and focus on being a hunter, as much as it killed him, because it was just going to get Dean killed if he didn't. He had already made one huge mistake and he couldn't afford to make another. He realized Paul had made his first mistake though. He was somewhere nearby because he could see John.

John looked around to see if there were any abandoned buildings. There were none and John let out a stream of curses. He climbed back into the Impala and scanned it, looking for bugs or hidden cameras. He didn't find one.

Bobby called and said that he would be there in about 2 hours. John filled him in on everything he had done so far. Bobby told him to drive around the city looking for potential places Paul could be hiding. Needing to keep himself occupied, John did just that.

_Hang on, Dean. I promise, Daddy's gonna find you. _

It was a good thing no one crossed John's Winchester's path that day. He was making no progress in his search for Dean. Everywhere he went turned into a dead end. He was getting frustrated and he really wanted to hurt someone or something on principle alone.

He kept praying that his phone would ring. He needed another clue. If anything happened to Dean...

He almost smacked his head off the ceiling of the car when his phone did ring. It was Bobby wanting to arrange a meeting spot. He got a long string of curse words for his trouble. Bobby didn't blame him. He was worried about Dean too.

"Any progress?" were the first words Bobby said when he met up with John.

"No. I gotta find him, Bobby."

"We will. I promise, John."

The phone suddenly rang again.

"Hey, Johnny, boy. Time's almost up. If you want more, you gotta answer this skill testing question."

"What is it?" John ground out.

"If you get it right, I'm going to give you more time just because I'm a nice guy. If you get it wrong, well you know what happens. Now, how did my son die? I want specifics. I'll call you back in five minutes."

John relayed the conversation to Bobby. "Danny killed himself right?" John asked. He had to be sure.

"Yeah."

"How? Mazer said to be specific."

"I don't know," Bobby said trying to wrack his brain.

"You don't know," John snapped. "What good are you?"

"Look, don't yell at me. I'm on your side. I think he OD'ed on his father's antidepressants."

"Are you sure?" John asked doubtfully. "We can't afford to be wrong here."

"I'm sure," Bobby said confidently.

John held the phone nervously when it rang again. "Your son overdosed," John said.

"Specifics," the voice on the other end taunted.

"He killed himself with anti-depressants."

"EHHHH," the guy said imitating a buzzer. "Wrong. He didn't take enough, but I couldn't stand to see him suffer any more, so I made sure he succeeded the next time."

Realization dawned on John. "You killed your own son."

"Ding ding," Paul imitated a bell. "I didn't want to see him suffer anymore. Looks like you get to go through it now."

"Don't, Paul, please don't," John begged. Suddenly, a gun shot was heard through the phone followed by the sound of Dean screaming. John jerked like he'd been the one shot. The phone fell to the ground, and John dropped beside it in a daze.

Bobby grabbed it. "I'm gonna kill you!"

"Bobby Singer, how the hell are ya?" the voice on the other line said in a friendly tone, as if he were speaking to an old friend. "I didn't expect this pleasure."

"Don't you Bobby me..."

"Now don't get your panties in a twist. I didn't kill him." Bobby heard a sound like someone was being kicked and another scream. "If you don't hurry though, he could bleed to death, like my son," Paul said bitterly and hung up.

Bobby knelt next to his friend. "He's not dead, John. He's still alive. You gotta keep it together. Now, think. Danny Mazer fell into a ravine. He couldn't get out. He said Dean was gonna suffer like Danny did."

"Oh, God, I'm such an idiot," John said shaking himself out of his stupor. "I was looking for a building. Danny was outside all night, Dean's gotta be outside. Paul could see me at that meat packing plant. There was a construction site off to the side. I'd bet that's where they are." He got up and ran for the car, Bobby hot on his heels. "Hurry up," John called impatiently.

They arrived at the construction site in record time.

"DEAN!" they both yelled.

"Took you long enough," Paul said stepping out in front of them, holding a gun on them. "I was getting worried you wouldn't make it."

"Get out my way!" John said, his threat clear as he pulled out his own gun. There was a hole behind Paul where the owners appeared to be putting in a pool. John figured that's where Dean was and he was fully prepared to empty a clip into Paul to get by him and get to his son.

"That isn't polite. Mine's not even loaded, see." Paul pulled the gun back and ejected the clip, revealing an empty chamber. "Go ahead," Paul taunted the irate hunters, daring them to shoot him.

"No way," Bobby said as he got his gun out. "You deserve what you're about to get." Bobby fired clipping Paul in the leg so he couldn't run away. "Now you can sit in a cold, lonely prison cell and think long and hard about why you're there."

Paul howled in pain and fell, grabbing his leg. He was too much of a coward to take his own life and he had fully expected John Winchester to shoot him on sight. "Kill me. I killed John's boy. I deserve to die," he begged.

"What you deserve is a cell in the general population," Bobby fired back as John ran for the pit and disappeared over the side. Bobby pulled out his phone and dialled 911. "Bet you'll be real popular there," he taunted.

"He's gonna die," Paul said viciously. "But if he doesn't, he's gonna wish he did."

"You're gonna shut up. You underestimate Dean, he's the strongest boy I know. He's gonna survive this and come out on top just to spite you. If you want to die you'll have to find another way."

"I'll make you pay," Paul promised after he knew there was no way Bobby was going to pull the trigger.

Bobby ignored him and called to his friend asking how Dean was. He felt his heart pound with fear when John yelled and asked where the ambulance was.

John had found Dean lying on the ground with his hands tied behind his back. He wasn't moving. John was almost afraid to approach, but he did. He reached out, laid two fingers on Dean's neck to take a pulse, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found one. It was weak and thready, but it was there.

John noticed that Dean's breathing was laboured. Danny had broken a rib in the fall and had punctured a lung. That was why they'd had to move Danny. They'd needed to get a make shift chest tube in him, or he would have suffocated before help arrived. John carefully ran his hand along Dean's ribcage, cursing when he found a break. He gently unbuttoned Dean's shirt and found the boot marks from where Dean had been kicked. He wanted five minutes alone with Paul Mazer, just five. It was all he needed. His breath caught in his chest at the bullet wound in Dean's side that was bleeding freely, if he had been here much longer, he would have bled out.

Suddenly, John pulled his hands off Dean as if he were on fire. He couldn't move him, as much as he wanted to pull Dean into his lap and comfort him. If Paul wanted Dean to suffer the same injures, where else could Dean be hurt? John suddenly found himself praying to a God he didn't believe in, that Dean's spine wasn't injured, that they had gotten here in time. Where the hell was that ambulance? He suddenly heard sirens. It was the most beautiful sound John ever heard.

"Hang on, Dean, I'm here," he kept whispering over and over.

-----

"I'm telling you, Bobby, you should have killed him," John said as he paced the small waiting room at the hospital.

"It's what he wanted. He's too much of a coward to take his own life and I wasn't gonna do it for him. Let him go to jail, it's what he deserves."

"Dean's going to be okay," John mumbled.

Bobby wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.

Before he could respond, the door opened and a doctor entered the room. "Dean Winchester's family?"

"Yes," John had been so distraught he hadn't even thought to give a fake name.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm Dr. Steiger. Have a seat."

"I'd rather stand. What's wrong with Dean?"

"He's in extremely critical condition. The broken rib punctured his lung. We inserted a chest tube and have him on a ventilator to help him breathe. The gun shot wound is troublesome, though. In itself, it's not life threatening because it didn't hit any major organs, but being exposed to the elements, and the dirt that got in the wound, its gotten infected, and Dean's temperature is up. He arrested once on the table."

"Oh God," John said, all color draining from his face. He sat down heavily in the chair.

Bobby took a seat next to him and laid a comforting hand on John's shoulder.

"We got it beating again," the doctor reassured them. "We're trying to stabilize him, to get him to surgery, but I have to be honest Mr. Winchester, between the blood loss and the infection his chances aren't good. If there's anyone you need to call, I would suggest you do so."

"Bobby," John said sounding scared. "Tell me he didn't say what I think he just did."

"Don't listen to him. He doesn't know what he's talking about. This is Dean. He's a tough kid, John. If anyone can get through this, it's Dean."

"I can't lose my boy, Bobby," John said softly.

"You won't," Bobby said trying to comfort the distraught father.

"I have... I've got to get out of here." John shook Bobby's hand off his shoulder and ran out the door.

------

He found himself in a place he hadn't been in a very long time, but something drew him to the hospital chapel. He went in and took a seat in one of the pews.

"You look troubled," a gentle voice said and took a seat beside him.

"Dean… my son," John whispered softly.

"Would you like to join me in a prayer for him?"

"No offense, father..."

"Drew," the priest supplied.

"No offense Father Drew, but I'm not exactly a believer," John said.

"It's okay. He believes in you. If you don't mind, I'll say a prayer for your son. Have faith, the lord works in mysterious ways." With that, Father Drew got up and left John to his thoughts.

He lost track of how long he sat there. _If there's anyone you need to call. _Should he call Sam? Sam hated him now, and if something happened to Dean and he never got a chance to say goodbye, John would never have any hope of working things out. He had always regretted the way Sam had left, but the two stubborn Winchester men wouldn't give in. He pulled his phone out. He just hoped Sam would answer. He had Sam's name highlighted and was just about to hit call when he heard Bobby calling his name.

"John, I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Bobby, is Dean..."

"He made it through surgery. The doctor's looking for you."

"I'm coming," John said rising. On the way out, he passed another priest, not the one he had spoken to earlier. "Excuse me," John said.

"Yes."

"If you see Father Drew, could tell him thank you. He'll know what I mean."

"Oh, I can't. You see, Father Drew passed away about 10 years ago."

"But..."

"You aren't the first to see him," the elder priest said sincerely. "It is said he comes to those that need him."

John stared dumbfounded at the priest. He must have been imagining things. He allowed Bobby to lead him out the door.

------

"Dr. Steiger," John said frantically as he met the doctor in the waiting room.

"Mr. Winchester, I have some good news for you. Dean came through surgery. We've given him several transfusions and his blood pressure is coming up. Barring any complications, he should survive.

"Thank God," John and Bobby repeated in unison. Then Bobby broke the silence. "I'm hearing a big but in there somewhere."

"The thing is the gun shot wound. It was a through and through, but it grazed his spinal cord. "

"He's not..." John couldn't get the word out.

"We stemmed the bleeding, but in Dean's weakened condition, we feel it is unwise to attempt further surgery. There are several bone chips resting against Dean's spinal cord.

"Is he paralyzed?" Bobby asked what John could not. This was _**not happening**_.

"We did some tests and all indications seem to point to paralysis. We won't be able to confirm this completely until he wakes up, but given his injury and the chips, and the swelling I would be surprised if he had any feeling below his waist."

"Is it permanent?" John's tone was so low they had trouble hearing him.

"As I said, the bone chips are putting pressure on the nerves and have caused a great deal of swelling. It's way too soon to know for sure. From what we can tell, there doesn't appear to be any damage to the cord itself. A couple of millimeters to the left and it would have been severed. All in all, your son's a lucky boy."

"What happens know?" Bobby asked, taking charge.

"Dean's being moved to ICU for monitoring. Don't give up hope. When the swelling goes down, we can look at surgery to remove the bone chips. There's a strong possibility that this isn't permanent."

"What kind of time frame are we looking at?" Bobby asked when John fell silent.

"There's no way to tell," the doctor said honestly. "It's different with everyone, but I can tell you that it isn't going to happen overnight. Dean's looking at a long recovery."

"I want to see him," John replied sounding tired.

-------

"Dean was paralyzed?" Sam asked in disbelief. "Why the hell didn't dad tell me? I would have come."

"Sam, calm down, okay? It wasn't your father. Dean didn't want you to know."

"And I still don't? Why the hell are you telling him this, Bobby? You promised." A voice, heavy with betrayal, called from behind him.

_Oh, crap,_ was all Bobby could think of when he looked up and saw Dean standing in the doorway. His face was a full of anger and hurt. Dean was never going to forgive him for this one.

TBC

Please read and review.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own

A/N: This is my attempt to get into Sam's head. It's not a place I'm used to being, so I hope this is okay.

* * *

"Dean was paralyzed?" Sam asked in disbelief. "Why the hell didn't dad tell me? I would have come."

"Sam, calm down, okay? It wasn't your father. It was Dean that didn't want you to know."

"And I still don't. Why the hell are you telling him this Bobby? You promised."

_Oh, crap,_ was all Bobby could think when he looked up and saw Dean standing in the doorway.

He didn't get a chance to explain because Dean just walked out the door. They knew he was mad when he slammed the door behind him.

Sam and Bobby were at a loss for words. Bringing up these memories, and Bobby betraying Dean's confidence on top of John's death, had to have him reeling.

"I better go talk to him," Bobby said, wishing he hadn't said a word to Sam. Dean had sworn him to secrecy.

Sam stopped him. "No, Bobby I got this one."

-------

It wasn't hard to find Dean. Sam headed directly to the salvage yard, where Dean was back fixing the Impala. The Impala was still pretty much a hollowed out shell, so Sam found his brother, not sitting in his beloved car but on the ground next to it. His legs were folded and his hands rested lightly on the top of his knees. His head was back toward the sky, leaning against the car, and his eyes were closed.

He had the appearance of someone who was totally relaxed, just enjoying the warm sun beating down on him. With Dean, Sam knew with absolute certainly that appearances were deceiving. Sam wished he could see Dean's eyes. They truly were the window to Dean's soul. Sam suspected that's why he had them closed.

"Dean," he called out cautiously as he approached.

"Go away, Sam," Dean answered, not opening his eyes. He wasn't surprised when Sam ignored him and he felt his brother slide down beside him.

"Dean, don't be mad at Bobby, okay? He didn't want to tell me. I insisted, and you know how I can get," Sam said trying to lighten the mood.

Dean finally opened his eyes and looked at his brother, confirming Sam's thoughts that Dean's emotions were all over the place. "He still didn't have to tell you. I didn't want you to know," Dean said, his tone indicating that he was hurt that Bobby had broken his confidence.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"You didn't need to," Dean insisted.

"You're my brother, Dean. I want to know what goes on with you."

Sam felt Dean stiffen beside him. "Like I did with you. I called you, Sam. You didn't answer. You had your perfect life. You made it loud and clear that you didn't want me or dad to mess that up, and having a useless, crippled brother would have done just that."

"Dean..." Sam said. He really hated it when Dean put himself down like that. There was nothing about his brother that was useless or crippled. Sam believed that wholeheartedly, no matter what Dean's physical state was.

"Save it," Dean cut Sam off. "I don't need or want your pity. It's over, it's done, just let it go."

"I'm sorry I didn't answer. I thought you were going to try and convince me to come back, and Dean if you had asked me to, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to say no. Not talking to you just about killed me. I didn't go to school to hurt you, I did it because it was something I wanted. Dean, you always told me, that I had to go after what I wanted. It's because of you that I had the courage to try. I went about it the wrong way though. Even though you weren't there, you were still a big part of my life."

That surprised Dean. "It's true, big bro," Sam insisted. "I still want to know more about what you went through. How about we compromise?" he added quickly before Dean could protest. "You tell me what you went through, and I'll tell you everything about Stanford.

Despite himself, Dean looked intrigued. He had always wondered about that time, just like Sam had done with him. He had always figured that Sam had lived it up, well as much as Sam did, when he'd been away. After the St. Louis case, when Sam admitted that he had felt that he never really fit in, that had surprised Dean.

Still, Dean couldn't admit that to Sam, so he did what he always did. "Everything?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and a lecherous grin.

A groan almost escaped Sam. Maybe he shouldn't have phrased it quite that way. "Everything," he agreed.

-----

_**2001 **_

18 year old Sam Winchester walked down the hall at the Florence Moore Dorm, or Flo-mo as it was called. Sam felt his chest tighten when he thought of the snide remarks Dean would have made. Sam suddenly missed his big brother so much it hurt.

It had been 2 months since The Fight and Sam storming out. Sure, he'd fought with this father before, that was nothing new, but this last fight was the one to end all fights. It deserved to be capitalized.

He'd been planning to use the summer to try and break the news about going to college, to both his father and brother in stages. Then his father had found his acceptance letter, and accused him of abandoning his family. Sam had hurled back that all John cared about was hunting. The fight seemed to escalate from there. The jabs that father and son hurled at each other grew more bitter, and turned downright mean.

Dean had tried to break it up, but both Sam and John had tried to make him take sides and had gotten angry when he refused, and both had said hurtful and spiteful things. That was when Dean lost his temper, actually threw a couple of choice phrases at both of them and had walked out.

That was when John turned toward him and uttered the phrase, "Make your choice, Sam. Stanford, or me and your brother. Just consider this, if you go, you don't come back."

Sam had done just that. He went to his room, threw a bunch of clothes in a bag, walked out and never looked back.

He never looked back as he hitched a ride to the bus station, or purchased a ticket with a fake credit card, the last time, he had vowed. He never looked back as he boarded the bus for California and the start of his new life.

He never regretted anything when he got a job as a waiter and took a room that was the size of a closet at a rooming house, and waited until he could get into his dorm.

The first time he did look back was when he arrived on campus. He'd gone through every major event in his life with Dean at his side. He'd been the one to see Sam take his first steps, he took him to his first day of school, cheered long and loud, totally embarrassing him, when Sam's soccer team had won their division championship. He'd been there to help him get ready, and tease him unmercifully, for his first date. Dean had been there when Sam had graduated, sitting front row center when Sam got his diploma and led a standing ovation after his valedictorian speech.

Sam wanted him here now. It was ridiculous, he was 18, but he still wanted Dean making jokes about the name of his dorm and helping getting him settled. It was what was keeping him from answering his phone when his brother called. He wanted to, desperately, but he was afraid he was going to crack if he picked up. He had texted Dean a couple of times, but hadn't gotten any response.

Stepping into room 3, Sam was glad to see that he was first one there. Out of habit, he claimed the bed that was furthest from the door. It didn't take him long to unpack his meager possessions, a few pairs of jeans and shirts. He stacked the school supplies on his desk, along with his laptop. It had been a present from his older brother at the start of his senior year of high school. It wasn't new, or the most up to date, but Dean had promised him that it had been obtained with legitimate funds. His brother had sworn up and down the stickers were there when he had brought it, but Sam hadn't believed it. So even with the decorations, it was still the favourite thing he owned.

It wasn't long before his roommate, Matthew Greer, or Matt as he liked to be called, showed up with his family to assist him. He was about Dean's height with short, black hair and brown eyes. His clothes were new, as was his state of the art laptop, leading Sam to believe he had money. He just hoped that the guy wasn't going to be a rich snob.

Matt's parents said goodbye shortly afterward and there was an awkward silence between the two strangers.

"Any idea what you want to study?" Sam asked to break the ice.

"Yeah, I'm thinking pre-med. I've always wanted to be a doctor. You?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'm leaning toward pre-law."

"Cool, I was worried I was going to get stuck with someone that was just here to party."

Sam grinned, so far things were going well. "No, my brother's the party animal," Sam said and wished he'd bitten his tongue. He hadn't meant to mention Dean.

"Older or younger?" Matt asked.

"Older," Sam answered.

"I have an older brother too. I was so happy the day he went to college. Jack liked to make my life a living hell. They're a pain aren't they?"

Sam had been tempted to just agree with Matt, but he couldn't. "No, my brother was great, most times." Sometimes, Dean had been a pain.

"I bet," Matt said in a way that left Sam thinking he didn't believe him.

Sam shrugged. He really wanted to get off this topic. Matt could believe anything he wanted, Sam knew truth truth. Dean may not have been perfect, but Sam knew he wouldn't change one thing about him. Okay, maybe his habit of leaving his dirty socks in the sink. That was just wrong.

-----

Friends.

They had always played a big part in Sam's life. Every time they had moved, Sam had vowed that he would never make a new one, because it always hurt when they had to leave, and often times his father wouldn't let Sam keep in touch. He had said that it created too much of a paper trail.

They'd move to a new town and Sam would get lonely. Sure, he had Dean, but sometimes it was nice to do things with people your own age. Plus, Dean was starting to take a more active role in hunts. Then their father had made Dean drop out of school and get a job. Sam still hadn't forgiven their father for that one.

It always started the same way. One of his classmates would start talking to him, and before Sam knew it, he was hanging out with them. Dean has always told him that he made friends as easily as breathing.

It happened the same way at Stanford. In Sam's political science class, he sat next David Thoms. David was tall, African-American, and had a wicked sense of humor. The class was on the dull side, and Sam had to stop himself from laughing out loud at several of David's remarks, and there was one time when Sam had to stop himself from crying. David reminded him so much of Dean.

Sam was pleased to find that David was in his English class, as well. The two of them had even agreed to work together on project they were assigned.

By the end of the first month, Sam and David became good friends. The more Sam got to know him, the more like Dean he seemed. He had a bit of a wild streak, nothing over the top, but he liked to go out and have a good time. He often tried to get Sam to go with him, saying he really needed to loosen up a bit. Despite everything, David was very friendly and had a good heart.

Sam had also met, and became friends with Samantha Welsh, and her roommate Jessica Moore. Samantha was Matt's girlfriend. She was a small girl, with red hair and brown eyes. She was quiet and soft spoken and very down to earth.

Sam had developed a crush on Jessica almost instantly. She was everything Sam was looking for in a girl. She was smart, friendly and kind. To Sam, she was a blond haired, blue eyed angel. Too bad she didn't normally go for guys like him. Girls that looked like Jessica were usually attracted to his older brother, never to him. David had told him on several occasions that Jessica liked him and he was crazy for not asking her out. Sam told him that he was crazy to think that way.

He also got along well with his roommate for the most part, but sometimes Matt just got on his nerves. Sam really couldn't explain why.

It had happened after he had been at Stanford for about 6 months. As much as he got along with his friends, there were a lot of times he felt apart from them. He listened to their stories from high school, holidays, trips, family times, and boy and girl troubles. He really couldn't participate.

What was he supposed to say? The last time my family went camping we were actually hunting a wendigo. What's that? It's a creature that was once human but became a cannibal and now lived forever. We had to torch the sucker. We had a nice family bonding moment after, when my brother and father had to stitch me up.

He knew everything about his friend's families. He knew the names of all their brothers and sisters and who got along with who. Where they all went to school, who their parents were and what they did for a living.

So far all they knew about Sam was that he had an older brother named Dean.

It wasn't that Sam didn't want to talk, it was that he couldn't. Who would believe him about some of the things he'd seen and done?

It made Sam feel like he didn't fit in with them, like he didn't belong in their world. The problem was that he didn't belong in his family's world either. He hated hunting, he hated the lifestyle of living on the road, going from motel to motel and barely getting by with hustling and credit card scams.

So where exactly did that leave him? Out in the cold feeling like a freak.

It was when he got to thinking about these things that put him in a funk. Matt had dubbed them Sam's bitch faces. Sam would just tell him to shut up and mind his own business.

-----

One of Sam's favourite books when he was a kid was Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. The first line of that novel, 'it was the best of times, it was the worst of times', was the perfect way to describe Sam's first birthday that he spent at Stanford. He was turning 19 and David knew of a bar where the bouncers would let them in. His friends were planning to take him out. Sam was both looking forward to it and dreading it.

When he had awoken that morning and checked his messages, he'd found one from David wanting to get together to study for their history exam. There was also a message from Dean that announced that he and dad were in Tennessee hunting a poltergeist, and that he hoped Sam was okay and had a good birthday. Sam had to grin when Dean told him to make sure he got laid that night, but this was the first birthday he was spending without Dean. By the end of class that day, Sam had gone into one of his moods.

He tried to get out of going out that night, but David and Matt literally dragged him from his room, telling him to stop being such a stick-in-the-mud. So that was how Sam found himself sitting at a table listening to his friends go on about how much fun their birthdays had been.

Dean had tried. He really had. Sam's birthday cake usually consisted of a stale hostess cupcake that Dean had gotten out of a vending machine. His present, if his father remembered was some article of clothing from good will. If he got something new, it was usually a piece of hunting equipment. His gift from Dean was usually a book from a flea market, or one Dean had "borrowed" from a library. Sam had cherished every one of them.

"So, Sam, what was your favourite birthday?" Jessica asked him after she had finished telling them about a time her parents had taken her to Disney world.

"Um..." Sam replied trying to stall. He decided to employ a Winchester technique that had been taught to him as soon as he could talk. He opened his mouth and lied. "I guess it would have been my 14th. My dad took me and my brother to the Grand Canyon. It was really neat." Sam had never been to the Grand Canyon in his life. Keep the lie short and simple. You were less likely to trip yourself up.

It was a tiny, innocent comment from Matt that started everything.

"Did your big brother try to throw you in?" Matt asked. "Mine would have."

"No," Sam scoffed. "Going to the Grand Canyon was the one thing that Dean's always wanted to do." Always mix a grain of truth in the lie, it made it easier to believe.

"Figures," Matt said sarcastically. "It's your birthday and your parents take you to Grand Canyon where your older brother wants to go."

"You got issues, man," Sam said in a joking tone. Deflect the conversation off the lie. Don't let what you said be examined too closely. Underneath he meant it. The guy had serious issues and there were several times Sam wanted to suggest professional help.

"I know," Matt agreed. "It's just that older brothers are a royal pain in the ass."

"I don't see mine that like," Sam suddenly snapped. "Dean's a good guy, okay?"

"Sounds like you're the one that's got issues," Matt mumbled under his breath.

"Guys," David said trying to keep the peace. "We're here to have fun."

"Fine," both Sam and Matt huffed.

Things calmed down after that for a bit. Sam wasn't really sure how the conversation had come up, but Samantha had mentioned that her sister had been accepted at Georgetown University, and everyone started talking about where their brothers and sisters went to school.

"My brother went to Yale," Matt replied. "What about yours, Sam?"

It would have been so easy to lie, but in all honestly, Sam was tired. He just wanted to go home, and he wanted to speak to his brother, but after so long he didn't know how. Before he could stop himself he blurted out the truth. "He never went to college."

"How come?" Jessica asked. Sam tensed but then relaxed when he heard no judgement in her tone. She just looked with interest to know more about him. Sam began to wonder if there was something to what David was telling them. He wished Dean were there. He'd know how to ask her out.

"He dropped out of high school," Sam said uncomfortably.

"My father would have killed me if I tried that," Samantha replied.

"Why'd he do that? Couldn't hack his little brother showing him up academically," Matt sneered.

_That does it! _"Why don't you shut the hell up," Sam snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about. My dad made him because he needed Dean to get a job." Sam stood up so forcibly that the chair went flying. He wanted to deck the guy, but he knew he couldn't stop at one punch so he just walked out of the door.

No wonder Matt irritated him. The guy was a complete ass.

"Why'd you say that, Matt?" Jessica snapped.

"What? How was I supposed to know? The guy keeps secrets better than Fort Knox."

"Sam, wait," Jessica said taking off after him.

-----

Jessica found Sam at the boardwalk over looking the ocean. She thought that she saw his eyes glistening with unshed tears, but it might just have been the spray from the water. It just made him that much more attractive to her. She'd had a crush on him since the day they'd met, and she just wished he would ask her out already.

"Don't listen to them," she said trying to comfort him, as she walked up beside him.

"I didn't mean to snap like that."

"It's okay," Jessica replied. "I would feel the same way if someone insulted my sister like that."

"It's just..." Sam started to say, but he stopped when Jessica put a finger to his lips.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Do you want to go back?"

"Um, no," Sam said. "Do you want to take a walk?" he stammered.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Sam was in such a good mood when he got back to his room. Even Matt didn't bug him that night. He had another date with Jessica. He smiled as he lay down. Dean had helped him get the girl after all.

_You haven't let me down yet, big brother, Sam thought as he drifted off to sleep. _

------

Sam stayed in California that summer, working. His sophomore year started off better, as he and David were now roommates. Sam still saw Matt though, as Samantha and Jessica were good friends. The two remained civil, but they didn't interact a whole lot.

Toward the end of the year, Sam got a big surprise when he got back to his room and found Dean waiting for him.

----

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked him.

"I don't see you for a couple of years and that's how you say hi? Sammy, I'm hurt," Dean snarked.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Relax, don't get your panties in a twist, Samantha. I won't upset your perfect life. I just wanted to see how you were doing," Dean said honestly.

"I'm doing fine, Dean," Sam insisted.

"You get laid yet?"

"You're unbelievable, you know that."

"You did. Sammy, you sly dog. Who's the girl?"

"It's none of your business. I have to study."

"Okay, I get it," Dean replied. "I was going to see if you wanted to go for a beer or something, but never mind. Bye Sammy," Dean said softly. "I'll see ya." With that, Dean walked out the door.

------

It had served to put Sam back into a funk for weeks. Even Jessica had found her patience growing thin. Especially since Sam wouldn't talk about what was wrong.

The third year passed uneventfully, with the exception of Sam moving in with Jessica. The fourth year had been more of the same, until Dean had shown up that fateful night.

-------

"You know the rest," Sam finished up. "I know I made mistakes, but you have to understand that me leaving had nothing to do with you."

"I know that," Dean confirmed. "I meant back what I said Burkettsville. I was proud of you, Sammy."

"Thanks, Dean. It's your turn," he reminded his brother. "How long were you in the chair?"

Dean sighed. He still didn't want to talk about this, but a promise was a promise. "About 5 months. Then they did surgery to remove the bone chips. It was about a month after that before I started to get feeling back. Another four months before I could completely ditch the braces and the crutches."

Sam calculated the timing of Dean's visit. It would have about the time he had shown up in Sam's dorm room. He cursed himself.

"Don't Sam," Dean said guessing what Sam was thinking. "You had no way of knowing. Come on, we should get back." He started to stand.

"Nice try, Dean," Sam replied. "I told you the whole story, you're not getting off that easy."

Dean took a deep breath and began to speak.

A/N: The part I didn't like was Dean's arrival at Stanford. With Sam's earlier thoughts about how much he missed Dean, I felt I didn't really explain why Sam seemed to not want him there, but I never got a chance to re-write that section.

Please make my muse happy and leave a review.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone that read, reviewed and altered this story. Everyone is appreciated.

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Dean opened his mouth and began to speak, Sam wasn't surprised by the first words that came out of his mouth. "Are you sure you want to hear about this?"

"Yes," Sam insisted. "All of it."

Dean gave a deep sigh and shifted uncomfortably. "I don't remember that much..."

"Dean!" Sam cut him off in an exasperated tone.

"Let me finish, okay?" Dean fired back. "I don't remember that much from just after it happened. I was pretty out of it for the first couple of days." He stopped and looked up toward the house.

Sam knew that his brother was hoping someone, or even something, would happen that would prevent him from talking. "Sorry," Sam said softly.

"Maybe we should go back to the house," Dean stalled. "Bobby may need..."

"Dean, why don't you want to tell me about this?" Sam asked, a touch of confusion in his tone. He was surprised by the honest answer that his brother gave him.

"I don't want you getting mad at dad. I mean it, Sammy, I... we… don't need this right now."

"I won't judge, Dean," Sam said, hoping he sounded sincere. He didn't want to promise until he knew the whole story. He knew how obsessed his father could get. Dean had said it was his idea for his father to leave, but Sam had a feeling there was much more to the story.

Dean looked toward the house once more. Sam could tell that Dean was looking for Bobby. The elder hunter had always had a soft spot for his brother, acting as Dean's protector, much the way Dean did for him. Sam would be forever grateful to the mechanic for that. He had a feeling that the fact that Dean was walking today had a lot to do with the other man. He could feel his anger building towards their dad. That should have been his job.

_Stop it, Sam. He warned himself._ John was dead, he couldn't defend himself, and this was the reason Dean didn't want to talk in the first place.

"Let's go back up to the house," Sam said taking pity on his brother. Sam had no intentions of letting Dean off the hook completely, but he knew that Dean would relax considerably knowing that Bobby was nearby. "I could use a cold one."

"Thanks Sam," Dean said gratefully. He stood and extended his hand to help his brother up, and the two silently made their way back to the house.

-----

Bobby had been keeping one eye on his surrogate nephews through the kitchen window. It was killing him to stand back and wait. He knew that he'd hurt Dean by telling Sam his secret, but he truly felt that Sam needed to know.

They had sat there for a long time and Bobby wondered if Sam had been successful in getting Dean to talk. Then they stood up and started walking back toward the house. Bobby hurriedly ran to the other room and grabbed a book to make it look like he hadn't been spying on them.

He saw them disappear into the kitchen and heard the fridge open. He got up and joined them and gratefully accepted the beer Sam handed him.

"Dean, I'm sorry…" Bobby started and stopped when Dean raised his hand to cut him off.

"Don't. You must have had a good reason," he said absolving Bobby of his guilt. "Me and Sammy have an agreement. We just decided that it would go better with alcohol."

"Okay, I'll leave you two alone," Bobby said curious as to what the agreement was.

"Bobby, don't go," Dean said immediately, confirming Sam's suspicions. "Um, I mean. I was out of it for the first couple of days. Maybe you could fill Sam in," he suggested.

"Okay, then you can take over," Bobby said firmly. "Actually, I think we're gonna need something stronger. Dean, I have some Jack in the basement, next to the holy water, can you get it, and then you can come back and take over." There was a conversation that he and John had had right after the doctor's prognosis that he would prefer Dean knew nothing about.

"Fine," Dean huffed, took a long swig from his beer bottle, and left the kitchen.

--------

_**2002 **_

"I want to see him," John said sounding tired.

"He's being settled in the ICU. It should be about a half hour before he'll be ready and I'll come and get you," the doctor explained.

"Thanks, doc," Bobby said. "John, are you okay?" Bobby was suddenly worried for his friend. John looked like he was about to faint. "Maybe you should sit down."

It worried Bobby even more when John did just that. John Winchester usually came across as larger than life, and it was really disconcerting to see him looking so vulnerable.

"This is my fault," John said as he lowered his head into his hands. "How am I going to tell him? This is going to kill him."

"It won't, Johnny," Bobby replied. "We don't know if it's permanent."

"You and I both know damn well that the only thing Dean's going to hear is that he's paralyzed," John said truthfully.

"Then we make him hear it," Bobby said firmly. "We say it over and over until it sinks in. The doctor seems confident that this isn't permanent."

"Doctors tell you what you want to hear," John said bitterly.

Anger quickly overtook every emotion Bobby had. "Don't you dare, John Winchester. Are you listening to me? Don't you dare say that you're giving up hope. If you believe right from the start that Dean's not going to walk again, then he won't."

"Don't yell at me, Singer. You heard that son of a bitch. He wants me to suffer like he did. He put Dean through everything his son went through. He left Dean outside, exposed to the elements. His injuries were almost identical to the ones Danny suffered. Danny never walked again."

"Danny was a kid with a lot of problems, John. If you hadn't done what you did that night in the forest, he would have died then and there. Remember John, Danny would be alive today if Paul hadn't killed him. That's the difference. Paul gave up any hope that Danny could recover, and I'm not just talking about getting out of his wheelchair. There are a lot of paraplegics that lead productive lives. Danny could have been one of them. That's the difference. Dean has us in his corner and we're going to fight with him every step of the way."

"But, how do we make Dean want to fight," John argued. "He's going to give up as soon as he realizes that his legs don't move. I'm not disagreeing, but name me one paraplegic hunter."

Bobby couldn't disagree with John on that one. "That's why we gotta be the strong ones here. We can't let him give up, no matter how much he wants to, and no matter how much he tries. You know he's gonna try, Johnny."

"Maybe we should call Sammy," John suggested. "Dean may..."

"That's probably the worst thing you can do right now..."

-----

_**Present**_

"Dad wanted to call me and you wouldn't let him?" Sam cut Bobby off in disbelief.

"Sam, it wasn't about you," Bobby said. "Dean's whole life was about protecting you. Look at this from Dean's perspective. His number one priority was to make sure you were safe. How do you think he would have reacted if you showed up?"

"I wouldn't have cared, Bobby," Sam said honestly. "Dean's my brother, you should have let me be there for him."

"I know you wouldn't have cared, Sammy." The term of endearment had just slipped out, but Bobby was pleased when Sam didn't correct him. It meant a lot to him, especially in light of what he had just revealed. "But Dean would have. You may not agree with me, but all Dean would have seen was the fact that in that state he couldn't protect you. You were away at school, you were happy. Your dad and Dean were checking up on you, so they knew you were safe."

To anyone who didn't know Dean, Bobby words wouldn't have made much sense, but when you were dealing with Dean's psyche, it made perfect sense.

"Bobby, I can't find it," Dean said coming back in the kitchen.

"Sorry, man, forgot it's under the sink," Bobby said and got out the bottle of JD and poured them each a shot.

Sam was a little shocked that Dean didn't react to Bobby's sending him out of the room. He would have been curious and demanded to know what they were talking about. Dean didn't seem to want to know though. Was he doing the right thing by making Dean talk about this? He suddenly wasn't so sure. He shot a look at Bobby and the senior hunter nodded, saying that he felt that Dean needed to tell his story, as it would help him come to terms with it.

"Your turn," Bobby said.

Dean downed his shot. "The first thing I remember is dad sitting next to my bed when I woke up."

-----

_**BEEP BEEP BEEP**_

It was that annoying sound Dean first heard when he started to come to. He wanted to tell them to turn it off as it was really irritating him, as was the thing poking him in the side of his chest. That really hurt. He blinked a couple of times to clear the cobwebs. He could see his father sitting next to his bed and wanted to call out to him, but something was stuck in his throat. It stopped him from talking, from breathing, and he began to gag.

John reacted just in time. He saw Dean blink a couple of times, and then his hands shot up towards the tube in his throat. John grabbed them just in time. "I gotcha," he said soothingly. "Easy, Dean, just focus on my voice. Breathe with me, son," he coached as he pushed the button for the doctor. "The doctor's coming, buddy. He'll get it out." He pushed the button again.

Dean tried to listen to his father but it was tough. It seemed like forever before he finally heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Dean," Dr, Steiger said. "I'm going to take the tube out." He would have preferred to leave it in for a few more hours, but Dean's oxygen stats had remained stable for the last few hours and the way he was fighting it was probably doing more harm than good. "When I tell you, I want you to take a deep breath and then blow hard, like you were blowing out the candles on your birthday cake."

_Yeah, yeah, this isn't the first time, doc. I know the drill. Just get it out. _

He felt the familiar burn as the tube was slid out his throat. He coughed hard. He felt his stomach roll and he tried to sit up so he could hurl. Pain flared in his side and lower back.

"Dean, you have to lie still," he heard his father order firmly.

He tried to comply. He took some deep breaths and felt the coughing and nausea begin to ease. He was grateful when the doctor handed him some ice chips and issued another familiar order, to just swish them around in his mouth and spit. He also felt the cool breeze of oxygen flow into his nostrils, as the doctor fitted a cannula under on his upper lip.

"Dad," he rasped.

"I'm right here," John said as he made sure he was in Dean's eyesight. "Close your eyes okay, son. I'll be here when you wake."

"Promise?" Dean asked hesitantly.

John reached out and took Dean's hand, being careful of the IV, and he squeezed it tightly. "Promise."

-------

It was much calmer when Dean awoke the second time. His eyes immediately searched out for the familiar sight of his dad. He visibly relaxed when he saw John sitting beside his bed.

"Can I get out of here?"

The first inclination Dean had that something was wrong was when his words failed to get a rise out of his father. Anytime he woke up in a hospital, he immediately asked to go home. His father usually just rolled his eyes indulgently and listed off his injuries, explaining why he couldn't go home just yet. His father just looked at him sadly. _What the hell was wrong with him? _

"Dad," Dean prompted.

"Yeah," John said trying to snap himself out of his daze. He had to keep up appearances. "Um, no, you have to stay. You lung was para... um, punctured. Tubes gotta stay."

"You mean this," Dean indicated the tube coming out of his side. The damn thing hurt like a son of a bitch. "It hurts," he pouted.

"Yeah, well, leave it," John insisted. "What do you remember about what happened?" He was trying to draw Dean's attention away from his injuries.

"Not much. It's kind of fuzzy. I was at the bar waiting for you. I got a coke, and the next thing I knew, I woke up tied a chair, and then that man was standing over me, telling me to talk to you. Then I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, and I woke up next at the construction site, where the dick shot me. I felt him kick me a bit later and then I woke up here. Dad, something's not right," Dean said. He'd felt off since he'd awoke and he knew his father was hiding something.

John looked to the door, hoping that someone would come in and rescue him. _How the hell did he find the words? _"I need you to listen, Dean," he said. He wasn't surprised when Dean's heart monitor started to speed up.

"Dad."

It just about broke John's heart at how young Dean sounded. He had to be figuring it out. He knew something major was going on. Before John could speak, Dean's eyes broke from his father and landed on his legs, finally pin pointing what felt wrong, or more accurately what he couldn't feel wrong. "My legs, dad. I can't feel them." The panic in his tone was evident.

"Dean, listen to me. The bullet, it… well, it..."

"Am I..." He couldn't say the word. One look at his father's face was enough to tell him. "I… I, dad, tell me it's not true," he begged.

"I wish I could," John said quietly and his guilt almost overwhelmed him when Dean broke apart in front of him. "Listen to me," he said firmly, trying to keep Dean's attention. He had to keep him focused and grounded. After Mary's death, Dean had disappeared inside himself for months and he couldn't let that happen again. "Dean, _**listen. **_The bullet might have grazed your spinal cord. _**Might have,"**_ John said again with emphasis. "You have a lot of swelling and there are some bone chips putting pressure on your nerves. The doctors are optimistic this isn't permanent, Dean."

_He was paralyzed. How could he hunt? How could he protect Sammy? This couldn't be happening. _He stared hard at his legs and tried to make them move. When he couldn't, he turned his gaze toward his father.

The defeat that he could clearly see in son's eyes just about killed John. True to prediction, Dean was resigning himself to a life of disability.

Dean suddenly couldn't stand the way his father was looking at him, couldn't stand to see his eyes full of pity. "Just go," he quietly but firmly instructed his father.

That was when John Winchester made his first mistake, when he listened to his son's words and walked out the door.

Right into a very irate Bobby Singer.

Dean got his wish of being alone for about 5 minutes before the door to his room opened and Bobby marched in, pulling John behind him.

"You're not wallowing in self-pity, either of you," Bobby lectured. "It happened, and no matter what the outcome, neither one of you idjits are gonna stop fighting."

------

The next week was tough for all three of them. Dean's mood swung violently from depression to anger, often in the space of one conversation.

What was making Bobby's job twice as hard was that he wasn't fighting one Winchester, he was fighting two. To his credit, John showed up at the hospital every day. The problem was that he was letting Dean give into his emotions. If Dean didn't want to work with his therapist, he sent the man away. The hospital tried to send in a psychiatrist, but one word from Dean and John sent her away as well.

Bobby truly felt for his friend, no parent should have to watch their child go through this, so he allowed himself to be the bad guy. When Dean told his physical therapist off one day, Bobby made him apologize. If Dean tried to beat himself up, or talk about how useless he was, Bobby yelled at the young hunter for being an idjit.

-----

It was about 8 days after Dean woke up before the doctors finally removed his chest tube. Evan, his physical therapist, decided it would do Dean some good to get out of his room. Predictably the stubborn young hunter refused.

"Tough," Bobby ground out forcibly.

"Maybe he's not ready for..." John started, but stopped when Bobby shot him a glare that would have killed a lesser man.

"Don't I get an opinion?" Dean spoke up from the bed.

"If I wanted it, I'd give it too ya," Bobby informed the young man. "You can't lie in this bed forever, son..."

"I'm not your son," Dean sniped rudely. "I am _**yours," **_he shot at his father in an accusatory tone.

"Dean," John said tentatively. He was used to being in charge, When he spoke, people listened. He was a marine. Yet this entire situation scared him more than anything. Dean was so fragile right now. He was so afraid that if he said the wrong thing, it would break his son permanently. "It would be good to get out of here. I know how you hate being cooped up."

"How's it any different if I'm stuck in bed or in some stupid chair?" Dean shot back.

John had no answer for him. He looked helplessly to his friend.

"Because Dean," Bobby said patiently. "The chair is going to give you more freedom. You will have control over it."

Before anyone could say anything else, Dean's therapist showed up pushing a wheelchair. "Good morning, everyone. Dean, you ready?" he asked.

"No, go away," Dean said, wishing for once that someone would listen to him. Of course, they didn't. Before Dean knew what was happening, they had the blankets pushed back, he felt hands grabbing him and lifting him, and then settling him in his wheelchair.

"There," Evan replied. "I'll give you a minute to get used to it."

Dean didn't want to get used to it. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd sat in one, he'd been in the hospital many times. It was par for the course, if you were a hunter. Anytime he'd been transported for tests, it had been in a wheelchair, and when he'd left he had to ride in one. The problem was that when he got to the door, he got out and walked to his car. He wouldn't be getting out of this.

Suddenly he felt trapped. Like when Paul had him tied to the chair. It wasn't that he wanted out of the chair, he needed to get out of it. "I don't..." he said. How did he voice his thoughts?

"Dean," Bobby said, in that lecturing tone that Dean hated. "It takes a while to get used to sitting in it when you can't feel your legs."

"You give it a minute. Get me out." Dean hated himself for pleading.

"Bobby, maybe we should..." John started to say. Then he looked toward his son. "Damn it, Dean, don't."

Dean couldn't take it anymore. Since no one was listening to him, he had decided to take matters into his own hands. He gripped the arm rests and tried to push himself into a standing position. The only thing he succeeded in doing was falling on the floor.

"I told you he wasn't ready for this," John insisted as he knelt next to his son. "Dean, are you alright?" he asked as he helped Dean to sit up. He'd had to hold him up, and his heart broke again when he felt Dean cling to him.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Don't put me back in it, dad, please."

John pulled him tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around his son. Dean had sounded all of five years old. He wanted to make it all better, but he couldn't.

Bobby knelt next to his friend and the young man he considered a son. This was killing him as much as it was killing John.

"I can come back," Evan replied.

"No," Bobby said. He felt like a heartless SOB for what he was about to do, but it had to be done. "Give me a hand to get him up," Bobby asked the therapist.

Evan walked over and stood beside Bobby, and then instructed him on how to safely lift Dean, and before the young hunter knew what was happening, he was sitting back in the wheelchair. He glared at Bobby and the look of betrayal in Dean's eyes just about killed him.

"It's for you own good," Bobby insisted. He kept a firm hand on Dean's shoulder, which prevented Dean from trying to launch himself out of it again.

"Dad," Dean said to his father, pleading his case.

It was here John made his second mistake. "Stay, it's an order," John thundered, angry at the situation, but it left Dean with the impression that his father was mad at him.

------

A short time later, Dean was transferred to a rehab center. It was after that when Dean became oddly compliant. He was his father's soldier after all. He had let his father down enough before, he didn't want to do it again. He did what they told him to do, but that spark had left his eyes and they were now dull and lifeless.

Now he wasn't fighting his therapists, Dean quickly made progress in learning daily care activities, such as getting in and out of his wheelchair, dressing himself and bathing.

Bobby insisted that both Winchesters come back to his place when it was decided that Dean could be released.

-------

Bobby had spent considerable time and effort to make sure his house was equipped for Dean's needs. There had been clutter everywhere, so he tidied up the house, had ramps installed and converted the den into a bedroom.

It had been 6 weeks since the shooting. Bobby was left wondering who was having more trouble adjusting to the situation, John or Dean.

It seemed that John was afraid of Dean, like if he touched him wrong, or said that wrong thing, Dean would break. He couldn't understand that. Dean was on the edge right now, but mollycoddling Dean wouldn't work. If you allowed Dean to give into his pity and despair, he would be lost to them forever. Instead, making him angry at his situation, or at someone, gave him something to focus on. Bobby and John had had many heated arguments over just how to handle the boy.

Fortunately, there were no major incidents as they all tried to settle in at Bobby's. Until about 1 month later, when John got a tip on a woman who had been killed just like Mary.

-----

Dean sat out on the porch one evening. He'd could hear Bobby and his dad yelling at each other in the back room, and he wanted to get away from it. He had no doubt that he was the subject of the argument.

"Dean," he heard his father call him.

"Yeah dad," he answered back reluctantly.

"Mind if I sit down?" John gestured to the porch chair.

Dean shrugged. "It's a free country. What's up?"

"I got a tip from Caleb. There was a woman killed in upstate Ohio. She died in a fire, pinned to the ceiling."

"You want to go check it out," Dean said. It wasn't a question.

"I won't leave if you don't want me to, son. I promised I wouldn't leave and I won't."

"But I know you want to. I don't want to hold you back. I'm useless like this," he said gesturing to his unfeeling legs.

"You are not useless, Dean," John fired back. "Stop it."

"I can't hunt like this. It's for mom, dad. I think you should go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Dean replied, hoping he sounded like he was. He really didn't want his father to leave. He felt safe when his dad was nearby, no matter what the circumstances.

"I can call Sam, he'd want to see you..."

"No," Dean cut him off sharply. "Sammy can't know about this. He can't ever know. He's happy, dad. I don't want to interrupt his life. Go. Go and hunt mom's killer. Get the son of a bitch, okay?"

"You're sure?" John asked once more.

"Yes," Dean snapped back as he wheeled himself back into the house.

John Winchester made his third mistake by leaving.

------

After John left was the hardest time for Dean. Bobby had a huge fight with him every morning about just getting out of bed. Dean had resigned himself to the fact that he was really was no good to anyone.

Bobby had tried to give him something to focus on. Dean had been working in his office, organizing his books, but Bobby knew how much Dean hated it, so he decided to have him come with him to the garage. Dean was always very good around cars.

It had almost backfired on him. From his seated position, Dean often had trouble reaching the engines. He got rattled and frustrated easily. It was when Dean had thrown a socket wrench through his window that Bobby finally had enough.

"Damn it, Dean," he admonished the young hunter.

"What?" Dean fired back.

"That's coming out of your salary."

"I don't care. Why bother? I can't do this. I can't reach anything."

"So? If you don't want to work in my office or here in the garage, then go get a job. You're not just sitting in the house drinking and feeling sorry for yourself."

"Go! To! Hell!" Dean suddenly fired back, losing his temper. "What in the hell am I gonna do? There're two things I'm good at. Hunting and fixing cars. I can't do either one. I might as well just go roll myself off the nearest bridge for all I'm worth."

Dean suddenly felt his chair being spun around and he found himself facing a very angry Bobby Singer.

"If I ever hear you talk like that again, I swear to God, Dean Winchester, you'll find yourself in the nearest psych hospital so fast your head will spin. How do you think your brother or your father would feel if something happened to you?"

"Well dad's not here, is he?" Dean yelled back. "Neither is Sam."

"You know damn well that Sam would be here if he knew," Bobby said. John was a whole other can of worms.

"Well he doesn't and he's never going to."

"What happened to you sucks, Dean. You can't change the fact that it happened, but you can keep on fighting. If you just roll over, that bastard that did this to you wins. Don't let him win, son."

"But Bobby," Dean protested. "What do I do? I can't help you here. I hate working on your books," he said honestly. "I can't hunt. What am I qualified to do? I don't even have a high school diploma."

"Then get one," Bobby said as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked. Had Bobby just said what he thought he did?

"Go back to school and get one."

"I can't go back to high school. I'm 23."

"There's an adult education center about a half hour from here. I know the guy that runs it. They have a GED program."

"But..."

"But what? The place is fully wheelchair accessible. You can't hide out here forever."

"But…" Dean tried again.

"I'll call Will tomorrow. See what we can arrange," Bobby said not giving Dean a chance to say no.

------

He felt like he was going to puke. His stomach was roiling that badly.

"Dean, you awake?" he heard Bobby call to him. "Don't want to be late on your first day."

Dean couldn't believe that he was actually headed back to school. He knew that if he tried to refuse, Bobby would just physically haul him out of bed. He'd done it before. Dean reluctantly transferred himself into his chair, got showered and dressed, joined Bobby for breakfast and then got in the car for his first day.

Dean sat out in front of the Watertown County Adult Education Center, trying to find the courage to go in. He hated being out in public, hated the stares and looks of pity that everyone gave him. The only problem was that Bobby wasn't coming back for him for hours and Dean didn't want to sit outside until then, so he took a deep breath and wheeled himself inside.

It didn't take him long to find room eight. He tried to ignore the stares when he entered the classroom. He was glad to see that there were just regular tables and chairs, and not desks like there had been when he was in school. He just had to move the seat that was there and his wheelchair would fit under it easily.

"Need a hand?" a voice called to him as he tried to move one of chairs at the table.

He was all set to refuse when he looked up and saw a beautiful brunette standing behind him. "Sure," he agreed.

He took a seat next to her. He learned that she had just recently been divorced from her husband, and wanted to go back to school to help support herself and her two kids. He volunteered that he had been a private detective and had been injured in the line of duty.

Before they could speak any more, the teacher showed up. "Good morning, class. I'm Lucas Tyler and I'll be your teacher this year. Let's all get started shall we?"

Dean decided that he had to pay attention. He soon realized that he didn't have to hide the fact that he knew the answers to a lot of the questions, and by the end of the day, he'd had several requests from his classmates to help them study.

-------

Being in school had brought about a big change in Dean. It seemed to give him his confidence back, and he now threw himself wholeheartedly into his therapy sessions. Then a couple of months later, the doctors determined that Dean was healed enough to have the surgery to remove the bone chips that were pressing on his spinal column. It was exactly one month after the surgery when Dean bumped his leg into a table and it had hurt.

A few weeks after that, he was up and hobbling around in full length leg braces and crutches. His entire class had congratulated him when he'd show up without his wheelchair.

It was slow going, but Dean fought harder than he ever had in his life. His graduation was rapidly approaching. It wasn't a large ceremony, but they were going to walk up and get their diplomas, and he was determined that he was getting his without the crutches or the braces.

When Dean Winchester set his mind to something, he usually succeeded. Bobby cheered loud and long, totally embarrassing his surrogate son, when Dean walked proudly to the front of the room to get his diploma, graduating at the top of his class. Dean just wished his father and brother were there.

Dean called his father and told him he was ready to meet up with him. Dean hadn't seen his father since his surgery. He knew he should be grateful that his father had shown up then. His father said he was finishing up a job and would be there in about a week to pick him up. Dean had decided to use that time to go to Stanford. He really wanted to see his brother.

------

_**Present**_

"I went hunting with dad until I came to get you a couple of years later," Dean finished.

"I wish you had told me," Sam said honestly. Dean had been on his own for most of the time he was paralyzed. He felt his anger toward their father grow. Dean had needed him. "I hate the fact that you went through that by yourself. Dad should never..."

"Sam," Bobby cut him off. "Dean and John made their peace with it. Let it go."

"That's why I didn't want to tell you, Sammy," Dean replied. "Dad had to deal with it his own way, just like I did. Besides, I wasn't alone."

"Thanks for being there for him, Bobby," Sam said honestly.

"Anytime, boys. My doors always open."

"Now can we get some pizza?" Dean asked. "Before we grow lady parts?" He was so totally done talking about this.

------

One week later Bobby stood on his porch and watched the fully restored Impala drive away. The boys had a case in Red Lodge. He knew that they still had a long way to go before they came to terms with John's death, but he had no doubt that they'd get through it. They were together after all.

The End.

I hope you enjoyed. If you did and could let my muse know she would appreciate it. I live for reviews.


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